


Watching Over

by purajobot935



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Almost Everyone - Freeform, Everyone's Sleeping, Friendship, Gen, Jazz makes everything better, Lazy Mornings, Optimus cares for his crew, Peace, Platonic Cuddling, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/pseuds/purajobot935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While most of the Ark takes a well-earned rest, one still remains awake to watch over them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching Over

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at a Prime fic, hope it turned out alright. Originally published August 2007

  
**Watching Over**

The sun climbed to its highest and cast its beams through the dissipating grey clouds, and the people of the land looked up at the blue sky and were glad for the break in the weather that had come at last.

Far in the west, within the volcano that was their adopted home, Optimus Prime put down the last datapad, leaned back in his chair and stretched, chuckling to himself when he realized that it was yet another human habit he’d unconsciously picked up. Sighing at himself, he sat forward again and looked around for a moment before checking a weather report.

To his relief, the forecast was nothing but good, fair weather for the next few days, something he was glad to know because it told him that all their labor in the raging storms over the past couple of nights had finally come to an end – at least for a while. It hadn’t been easy toiling through rain, wind and lightning night after night, day after day, attempting to rescue trapped people from floods, fires and earthslips while at the same time trying to ward off the forces of nature so they could get the rescued to safety.

All in all, they had done fairly well, with only minimal casualties to account for, and had returned to the Ark earlier that morning, but something still felt strange.

Then it hit him and Prime realized that it was suddenly far too quiet for his liking, being more used to the clatter and clamor of daily Autobot life at the base, and he frowned as he rose to his feet. The silence all but echoed in his audios and he wondered what had become of the other Autobots, since it was unusual to not even hear footsteps outside his door.

Slightly worried for his little family – for he had come to see them as such – he headed outside and down the hallways towards the lounge. If anything, he knew most of the Autobots would have first gathered there to unwind and relax. As he neared, he could hear the sound of the TV drifting out through the doors, and that at least put him a little at ease, though the sight that greeted him as he entered still caught him by surprise.

The TV was still on and a few Autobots still sat around it on the large couches, but none of them were paying any attention to the programme on the screen, being fast asleep where they sat.

Trailbreaker sat wedged in one corner, his head on the back-rest and one arm draped over the side of the couch. The rest of the space was taken up by Hound – his head on the arm-rest and his feet on Trailbreaker’s lap. Bumblebee lay stretched out on the other couch, one hand placed protectively over Spike, who lay on his chest. The boy raised his head when he heard the Autobot leader’s footsteps and put a finger to his lips. Prime chuckled to himself.

“Everything okay, Spike?” he asked as softly as he could.

“Just fine, Optimus,” Spike replied. “Everyone’s just really tired after all the work we did.”

“I understand,” Prime said. “Sweet dreams.”

Carefully, he retreated back outside, stepping over the prone body of Cliffjumper who lay closer to the door, without breaking his stride.

From there, he made his way down to the med bay to check on the few who had been injured, and to get an update from Ratchet, but even there it was unusually quiet, being devoid of the rantings and ravings of the Chief Medical Officer. He soon saw why.

His patients stable and offline, Ratchet sat at a table, head pillowed on his arms which were folded on the surface. He looked up when Prime entered and snapped off a sleepy salute, about to stand, when Prime signaled him to stay where he was.

“Though I’m surprised to see you crashed out here and not in your office,” he commented.

“Sparkplug snores,” Ratchet replied by way of explanation. “I think I understand now why the habit tends to annoy some humans.”

“I’m sure it can't be that bad,” Prime tried to reason.

“You stick your head in there and tell me if you can recharge with that racket.”

Prime was sorely tempted to take him up on the offer, before he remembered that this was Ratchet’s office and only dire need would drive him out of it, so he prudently declined. He would have been lying to himself if he felt he hadn’t been tempted to get a peek at the CMO’s private area though. Rumor had it that he kept a special brew of energon in there. Before temptation could persuade him further, Prime wisely took his leave and left the med-bay.

Thinking to head outside and experience the sunshine again for the first time in so many days, Prime detoured down another hallway that took him past Wheeljack’s lab. Normally he would unconsciously quicken his pace to get as far away as possible from the blast radius of whatever project the engineer was working on, but today the lab was quiet, prompting Prime to slow down and risk a peep inside.

He was in time to find Wheeljack slumped over one of his work-tables in a deep recharge cycle, right next to a device that had an ominous red light flashing.

“Device will detonate in 20 seconds,” a computerized voice from the contraption announced.

Prime darted inside and looked the device over, quickly reaching for a pair of wire-cutters and cautiously clipping a few wires that finally shut off the timer five seconds before the thing blew, thereby averting what would have possibly been a spectacular explosion. With Wheeljack, he knew not to expect anything less.

Sighing in relief, Prime replaced the cutters, patted Wheeljack gently on the back so as not to wake him and quietly left the lab, thanking Primus that he’d gotten there in time to prevent a potential catastrophe. Sleepy Autobots woken in the middle of a nice recharge cycle were cranky, unpredictable and rather hard to work with.

Taking a short-cut through the residence level, by now he was not surprised to find it quiet and most of its doors shut – save one. The door to Bluestreak’s room was open, and thinking there would finally be someone around for him to talk to, he went towards it and stepped inside, only to find the young gunner asleep on his berth, curled on his side with a datapad nestled in one arm and poking uncomfortably into his torso.

Prime smiled fondly to himself and bent to carefully remove the offending datapad so the young mech could rest more comfortably. Bluestreak made a soft sound and shifted slightly, but didn’t wake, and Prime stood up to place the datapad on the desk. As he put it down, he noticed a small holopic leaning against the wall, that held an image of Bluestreak and himself not long after they’d met on Cybertron.

“Our great leader,” the caption beneath read.

“I’m glad you think so, Bluestreak,” Prime murmured as he quietly backed out of the room.

He finally made it outside and for a moment stood just past the exit and looked around. The storms seemed to have washed the landscape clean and in the sun the colors of the flora and fauna around him stood out all the brighter. The sky as well seemed to glow a pleasant blue, with not a cloud in sight. Prime understood then why several Autobots had chosen to take naps outside.

The Twins snoozed under a large tree, and Prime assumed they’d chosen the shade because of Sunstreaker’s fear that the sun would bleach his paint. Said mech lay stretched out on his back, his torso serving as a pillow for the red twin’s head as Sideswipe lay sprawled against him. Both sported fresh weld marks and patches here and there – evidence of the hard work they’d done over the past few days.

Not far from them, Mirage and Prowl were reclined against the same grassy boulder, optics dark as they rested peacefully, lulled by the sounds of the breeze through the trees and the chitter and chirping of the small birds and rodents.

Prime took it all in, wishing he could give this type of atmosphere to them on a more permanent basis, but knowing it would all too soon come to an end when the next alarm went off. Then they’d cease to be his family and become once again his rag-tag bunch of fighters – when Bluestreak had to put away his stories and pick up his rifle, and trust that his ‘great leader’ could keep him alive, or when the next sounds Ratchet heard were not snores but cries of pain – all because of a few power-hungry tyrants.

As Prime brooded on all of this, he heard the sound of smooth crooning coming from inside the Ark behind him, getting slightly louder as the source drew near. The voice and words of the song seemed to drive away the dark thoughts that had been haunting his mind, and Prime smiled as the singer moved to stand beside him.

“And I think to myself – what a wonderful world.” Jazz grinned up at the Autobot leader.

Prime looked down at him. “I’d have to agree.”

“Thinkin’ about whether to catch a few Zs y’self?”

“No, actually something much darker.”

“Ah. Wonderin’ when ol’ Megatron’s gonna throw another hissy fit and point his fusion cannon in our direction again?”

The bigger Autobot shifted, marveling at how Jazz could read him so easily. Well, that was why he’d picked the mech in the first place. “Something like that.”

“Well, y’see Prime, it goes something like this.” Jazz’s voice became slightly lyrical. “When I was just a little ‘bot, I asked Vector Sigma: what would I be? Would I be charmin’, would I have style? This is what he said t’me…” Jazz paused for dramatic effect.

“Go on,” Prime chuckled, starting to feel a lot better.

“Que sera sera,” Jazz replied with a slight lilt. “Whatever will be, will be. The future ain’t ours t’see. So que sera sera.”

“You made that up,” Prime jokingly accused him.

“Naw man, it’s a legitimate song, though I may have changed a few words. Thing is, we can't predict what’s gonna happen or when, so why waste time worryin’ about it when we can enjoy what we have right now.”

“So lying comatose is a way of enjoying the nice weather we’re currently having?”

“You bet! Especially after what we went through.” Jazz stretched his arms up, then stifled a yawn.

Prime wondered how many more human habits the adaptable mech had picked up since they’d arrived. “You’d best get some sleep as well.”

Jazz nodded. “An’ what about you, Prime?”

“Me? I’m going to enjoy the day.”

~END.

Enjoy!


End file.
